Left of Eden
by Reiya Inc
Summary: I wonder which is worse, a sudden, brutal death at the hands of a machine, or wasting away, one breath at a time. AU


Disclaimer: Sonic & co. belong to Sega, lyrics by Red Hot Chili Peppers.

AN: This is an AU and was based on a dream I had. It's a possible outcome of a Robotnik takeover. Reviews are welcome. Enjoy.

**OoOoOoOo**

**Left of Eden**

_I don't ever want to feel_

_Like I did that day_

_Take me to the place I love_

_Take me all the way..._

**OoOoOoOo**

"... You hear that?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I don't know... maybe tanks."

"Where'd they get those?"

"They probably built 'em from all the scrap metal layin' around."

I shrug, you nod. We sit and listen to the rumbling above us for the rest of the night.

**OoOoOoOo**

"What's wrong?"

You look gloomier than usual.

"Nothing."

You won't look at me either. You're looking at the ceiling as if your eyes can dig their way out. Maybe they can, it's only broken planks of wood that allow sunlight to filter down during the day.

"Do... do you think things will ever go back to the way they were?"

You look back at me with those blue eyes. I don't want to lie to you, but saying the truth would be too cruel.

"Yeah, I think they will."

**OoOoOoOo**

"The peaches have gone bad."

You show me the can you opened. It looks molded. You put it in the other room, where we store the trash. This place was going to be a basement, but it never got finished. It was going to have at least two rooms, but then the invasion put an end to all of that. The owners kept some canned goods down here. Not a lot, but it's enough.

"Pickles are still good, though."

You pry the lid open with your fingers, slicing one on the sharp edge. It's the same one you cut last week. You hold it tightly in your fist.

**OoOoOoOo**

I open the cans from now on; you've cut too many fingers.

"You know, there still might be some people alive up there. Maybe even some are fighting back."

"Are you going to leave?"

There's a little bit of fear in your voice. I don't blame you, the last time you were up there you saw a slaughter.

The last time I was up there I saw a mass grave full of children.

"No, I'm not going to leave."

**OoOoOoOo**

"How long have we been here?"

"Four...five weeks maybe."

"We're running out of food."

I nod.

At least we have enough water. In the corner we dug and dug until we found water. With our nails and fingers cracked and bleeding we scooped it up in our hands and drank. It was muddy, but it was all we had.

The dirt floor is cold and you lean against me to stay warm. I pretend it doesn't mean anything to me.

**OoOoOoOo**

I awake to the sound of gunshots. It's close. There's still people alive to shoot. For some strange reason that gives me hope. I hear them shoot off another round.

You hug my side and I put my arm around your shoulder.

It's jutting out too far. You're skin and bones. But so am I. I can feel you lightly count my ribs with your fingers.

We can't stay here much longer. You know that by now.

"What do we have left?"

"A little bit of corn."

"You eat it."

"What are you going to have?"

"I'm fine."

You still try to offer me some, but I can't take any. You look like a skeleton with your long, thin arms and sunken eyes. I can't watch you waste away.

But if we leave, you might die at the end of a bot's gun. I can't take that risk.

**OoOoOoOo**

There's that rumbling again. You raise your head a little and drop it down to the floor. You're still cradling your hand that you hurt a few days ago.

So I reach for it and pick it up. The shred of cloth you wrapped around your bleeding fingers has been matted with blood. We don't have anything else to use for a bandage.

I peel the cloth back slowly. Your index and middle finger are red and swollen. They still have an open wound on them that bleeds a little. I touch the torn flesh and you don't flinch. I wonder which is worse, a sudden, brutal death at the hands of a machine, or wasting away, one breath at a time.

**OoOoOoOo**

"We have to try to get away from here. We have to leave."

"Where...?"

Your voice sounds like a rattle.

"We can't stay here."

You nod. I help you stand.

"They... they can't be everywhere... right?"

"Right."

It sounds false even to my ears. If he destroyed Station Square so completely, then where was safe?

"You ready?"

You nod, but you clutch my hand. I remember when I saw you during the attack. I grabbed your hand and brought you down here. You saw a line of bots shoot down anyone in their path. You stood ankle-deep in blood. Your hands were white, now they're caked in dirt.

We walk through the second, smaller room. It used to smell like rotting things, but we don't notice it anymore. Behind this room is stairs. Stairs that lead up to the house. If the house still stands.

I move the latch and push open the door. I have to put my shoulder against it to make it budge. There's some debris piled against it, but you help pick our way through.

**OoOoOoOo**

At least it's night. It's dark and we can't be seen and we can't see all the damage laying around us. You can see enough, though. Most of the houses have been burned or just broken down enough to where you can see perfectly straight in any direction. Except east. There's a huge building to the east. He built it on the ruins of the train station. Squads of bots are coming out of the building and lining up in formation, it could be a factory. And he could be making more of his bots.

A cloud of smog hangs in the air.

There used to be life here.

I can see some bots patrolling the streets. I try to tell you that's a good sign. Why would they be looking for people unless they knew there were survivors?

The invasion caught us off guard, but others had to have made it out alive.

We walk down past where the park used to be. It's a field of ash. No more swings or benches or monkey bars.

"Where can we go?"

"We'll head towards the forest and use it as cover until we get far enough from here. Then we'll keep moving north until we find somewhere safe."

I want to have a better plan. I want to be certain about something.

"Alright."

You give me a little smile. You haven't smiled since before all of this.

"We've past the city limits."

I don't know how you can tell, but you seem sure.

"The forest shouldn't be too far."

We've been crawling through this charcoal landscape, hiding in the shadows and listening for any bots on patrol.

I try not to think of the pyres of bodies they burned here.

"Look."

I point to the tree line, it's just over the next hill, about a hundred yards away. It's hard to read the expression on your blackened face, but I think you're surprised we made it this far.

Every thing's almost okay.

And I almost say what I've wanted to tell you. I almost whisper it and kiss you.

But I wait. I'll wait until we're hidden in the forest. Until we can afford not to worry. Until I have enough time to say everything and not rush it.

**OoOoOoOo**

So close...

If we can just reach the woods, if we can just get there...

After this hill, there are no shadows to hide in; we'll be out in the open. A bot could easily spot us if it was looking this way.

You grab my hand.

"Let's go."

I nod; we sprint.

I run harder than I ever have before. I can't hear anything but the wind rushing past my ears. I can't feel anything but your hand in mine.

**OoOoOoOo**

I look back at you. You've put all your energy into this last desperate run. For the promise of freedom that's waiting just out of reach. You're a few steps behind me. We're so close. We're so close...

I smile. You see it, and smile back.

Just as I'm about to turn, I see something stop at the hill behind us.

It's a bot.

It's aiming.

We're so close.

Just ten yards at the most...

We were so close.

**OoOoOoOo**

I hear the gun fire. I hear the bullet whiz through the air.

I make a final leap into the woods, dragging you with me.

I hear the bullet make impact with flesh.

**OoOoOoOo**

We make it into the forest and I'm still pulling you. I haul you behind some foliage.

"Rouge...?"

You aren't moving.

Your eyes are still open, but they stare blankly ahead, past me. I touch your cheek, but you don't stir. There's a dark puddle growing under your head.

I turn you gently.

There's an egg-sized hole in the back of your head. Blood's pouring out of it and soaking my hands. I can see your brain and fragmented pieces of your skull. Numbly, I try to put the flaps of skin on the back of your head. I try to stop the bleeding with my fingers.

But you still don't move. And I can't feel a pulse, except for the blood flooding my hands.

I'm trembling; and my tears are warmer than your blood.

My head's saying I should run. I should run before the bot finds me here and puts a hole in my head too. I should run and find somewhere safe.

Except, freedom and safety won't mean anything if you're not there too.

I hear the bot enter the forest. It's very close. The bots uses its claws to clear a path, in a few more seconds it'll find us.

It's followed your blood trail.

I stand. It raises its gun to shoot, but I sink my fist into its head. My fist cracks.

The bot is disoriented and falls to the ground, losing its gun. I jump on top of it and keep hitting.

I alternate between smashing its face and tearing metal plates off of it. Blindly, it strikes at me but I keep ripping it apart until it stops moving. Wires are sticking out of it like bones. Oil flows out and mixes with my blood. Sparks singe my fur.

I glance at what's left of my hands. They look like the ground meat you buy at a store. There's no flesh on my knuckles and I'm missing a finger.

Strangely, my hands don't hurt that much. My stomach hurts worse. I look down.

The bot has one of its claws buried in my stomach. I try to pull it out through the gash it made when entering, but it tears my belly open wider.

I taste blood in my mouth. I wrap an arm around myself to keep my intestines from falling out. It's an odd sensation, to be able to touch your own organs.

Slowly, I crawl back to you. I'm dizzy and feel like I have to puke. You're still laying on your side, staring far past me. I drop beside you and reach for your hand.

There was something I wanted to tell you...

... but I can't remember it anymore...

End


End file.
